Deny Me
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: Philippe/Raoul slash. Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He simply loved him too much.
1. Homecoming

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He loved him simply too much.  
Warning(s): slash   
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul  
Word Count: 1,370

A/N: I've only heard one person even mildly interested in this pairing and that's Istlandir. And apparently, all it takes is a suggestion and I'll do what I can to make something happen, if it's in my power or interest to do so.  
Story note: As such, it simply had to be done. Philippe and Raoul are too close and too much for me to be able to keep them apart. Raoul's visiting home from the navy. He's also very… in character, I guess (novel-wise). I think, probably not though.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me  
Chapter 01: Homecoming  
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Hearing a carriage pull up to the front door, Philippe placed the contracts he was looking over onto his desk, a slight frown marring his handsome features. No one was supposed to come calling today; he had no scheduled business meetings. Expecting the visitor to leave soon, Philippe once again tried to concentrate on the contract through the dying light. Boring as it was, he knew it was nonetheless important.

The carriage left, but instead of his household returning to the quiet he'd become accustomed to after his brother's departure, noisy footsteps clambered up the stairwell and down the hallway.

Philippe stood up, his chair scraping against the floor in the process. Watching his door expectantly, his frown only deepening, he moved around his desk to stand before it.

The door flung open, slamming against the wall. The frames that hung nearby shook. Before Philippe could react, a body, slightly smaller than his own nearly tackled him to the floor. As it was, he fell backwards against his desk barely managing to stay standing as lamp, pens, and ink spilled across both desk and floor.

A distant part of him noted the mess that had been created and the fact that the contract would have to be rewritten, but Philippe could only laugh and hold on tightly. He buried his face in the blonde hair, darker than his own, but no less familiar. Breathing in, he could smell the sun that was now fading beyond the horizon, the one he'd barely taken a second to notice throughout the day. He could smell grass and dirt and the sweat that marked the long distance from the port to their estate.

"Brother," he could barely breathe with the grip that Raoul had on him. His laughter subsided when he realized that Raoul's hold on him was rather desperate, as though he was never going to let go. While the thought itself was not unpleasant, Philippe could not help but be worried, especially when Raoul did not respond, simply choosing to further hide his face while adjusting his hold on him.

"Raoul?"

His brother was several days early from the date he'd given for his return for shore leave. Maybe something had happened to make him act as such. After all, he hadn't been able to see Raoul's expression as he moved from the doorway to him. Raoul had been too quick.

He hadn't thought much of such a greeting either. Raoul was always affectionate, always enthusiastic about returning home even though he hadn't seemed at all too troubled about leaving for the navy either. After all, it had seemed the obvious next step for him. Raoul had been following in their uncle's footsteps, and Philippe couldn't be prouder. Raoul had gone away and come back a few times already, and each time, he had been just as glad to return as he was to leave.

This was new. Troubled, Philippe held onto him tighter, trying to gauge whether Raoul was losing weight or if he was injured somewhere, looking for anything that might help him understand his brother's continued silence. It seemed unlikely after the lengths he'd gone to ensure his brother's well-being, and after a few moments he could find nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he did notice that Raoul had grown a little taller in their time apart, though he was still shorter by a good three inches. Raoul was also slimming down, but it wasn't the weight loss of malnutrition. His body was not as yielding to a hug as it had been in the past as unnecessary fat gave way to muscle. Hugging Raoul now was different than it had once been. It was almost saddening.

Philippe could remember a young Raoul, a chubbier one who always reached out with both arms to be picked up, to be held. He would never hesitate to hold him, to offer him all the love and affection he could give. Even when Raoul had grown into his teens, he'd rush to Philippe with every perceived and actual wrong against him. His body shaking in Philippe's arms as he sobbed and clung to him. Philippe had done what he always did, told Raoul everything was going to be alright, told him that no matter what happened he'd be there.

Whispering in a low tone, one that wasn't pressing, he asked, "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Raoul shook his head a fraction and let out a deep breath. Philippe noted it wasn't shaky, which would have been a clear sign that his brother was crying.

"Are you sure? You can tell me if something is wrong."

Pulling away slowly, Raoul looked at Philippe, pouting and eyes wide. It seemed as though he were considering something, his lips pressing together. Philippe knew the best thing to do was wait patiently; he knew that it would be best if Raoul told him of his own volition.

Apparently coming to a decision, Raoul gave a weak smile. "I," he sighed, "I just really missed you."

Giving an indulgent smile, Philippe ignored the fact that his brother was obviously lying. He didn't know why or what the lie was, but although now determined to find out what it was, Philippe ignored his disappointment in Raoul's decision in favour of relishing his return home.

"Good," Philippe held Raoul's face between both his hands and kissed each cheek once.

Raoul crinkled his nose and blushed lightly but did not protest.

"I missed you, too," Philippe said, not releasing Raoul's face, "But what are you doing home early?"

Bringing his hands up to lay them on top of Philippe's, Raoul pressed them a little tighter, enough so that Philippe could feel the slight heat from Raoul's blush. His brother's eyes closed and he sighed once more. Philippe almost mirrored the sigh, wanting to confront Raoul about his behaviour, but sticking to his decision to wait.

Raoul opened his eyes moments later. Avoiding Philippe's gaze, he looked past him to finally see the mess he'd made. Moving out of Philippe's reach, Raoul quickly ran to the other side of the desk, trying to curtail with his hands the river of ink that was dripping onto the floor. Philippe watched his harried motions; Raoul never acted like this unless it was something big.

Though, with Raoul, things were always relative. He always acted this nervous whenever women visited the estate and again when he did something he thought Philippe would disapprove of. The navy had been one of those times when he'd acted as such. How Raoul could have gotten it into his mind that Philippe would be anything but proud was still beyond him.

Sighing, Philippe reached across the desk to still Raoul's hands.

Raoul looked at him apologetically. "I didn't think. I shouldn't have…"

"It's quite alright," Philippe insisted.

"But your paperwork," Raoul motioned to the smudged contract. "Maybe we can save it."

Philippe couldn't help but smile at his honest concern. "It's quite alright. I believe it's a sacrifice I'm willing to take for the return of my only brother."

Smiling weakly once more, Raoul gave in, lifting his hands up from the desk only to stare at them with disdain.

Philippe laughed at his expression. "Best to clean up before dinner," he said between chuckles.

As Raoul cautiously held his hands far from his clothing, he made his way around the desk to stand beside Philippe.

Philippe noted, "Just like when you used to be younger." At Raoul's questioning gaze, he elucidated, "You were always so meticulous about getting dirty."

"I was not," Raoul defended immediately, hearing the teasing tone of Philippe's voice.

"Yes," Philippe nodded, pleased to see that Raoul seemed to get over his initial behaviour, "I was worried you were allergic to dirt with the reactions you gave."

"I didn't like to be dirty," Raoul retorted, "That's not abnormal."

Shrugging, Philippe replied flippantly, "Of course it isn't."

The only warning Philippe had before Raoul reached out to rub his hands all over his face and arms was a slight frown. After that, the two tumbled to the ground, struggling with each other, creating a mess far worse than the one on his desk.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 01

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Story Note: It was supposed to just be a PWP – like a really quick PWP where I don't even explain how they go there, but I love both Philippe and Raoul simply too much to do that to them. They rather like plot, build up, clumsy/hesitant!Raoul; indulgent!Philippe isn't so bad either.


	2. Identity

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He loved him simply too much.  
Warning(s): slash, incest pairing  
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul  
Word Count: 1,750

A/N: Wow, you're still reading. Nice. I can almost see myself getting into this pairing… if only ER wasn't my OTP.  
Story note: Yup, it's going to be all in Philippe's POV because he doesn't get enough face time on fics as the kind and caring brother he really is.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me  
Chapter 02: Identity  
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Raoul's behaviour generally improved after their impromptu wrestling match, but for lack of a better word, he was restrained – as though every action was choreographed: the smile, the expression, the distance between them, and even their banter. It wouldn't have been obvious if it weren't for the fact that moments when Raoul forgot himself, he would steal extra glances at Philippe, never quite meeting his eyes before quickly turning away and fixedly staring at a spot in front him and a sigh that was the most pitiful thing Philippe had ever heard in his life would come out. That sigh was like a sword in his stomach. His brother was hurting and therefore, he hurt as well.

However, he didn't even have the opportunity to question Raoul about it because soon after that sigh, his brother would remember himself. Whenever he was about to start a conversation, that depressed attitude would disappear and Raoul would be cheery and somehow direct the conversation to other topics. The smiling veneer wasn't difficult to see through though. Philippe knew his brother was one unguarded moment away from returning back to moving frantically about the room while smiling weakly in a poor attempt to assuage Philippe's worries.

Still, dinner passed pleasantly enough though mostly quiet. Raoul was only trying when Philippe started the conversation and Philippe couldn't help but be preoccupied with Raoul's behaviour and more importantly, what Philippe deduced to be the root of it, the secret Raoul was hiding from him. It was rather unbelievable that his little brother would keep something from him. Raoul _never_ kept secrets from him. It simply was not done. The mere idea made him incredulous.

As such, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He barely slept. So, come morning, Philippe was ready to address it at breakfast. He'd had all night to plan the proper way to approach Raoul without seeming confrontational and more importantly, without seeming as agitated as he currently was. He thought he'd been prepared for everything: an emotional, a crying, a defensive Raoul, but when his brother entered the breakfast nook and sat down at his place at the table, Philippe actually hesitated.

"Good morning. Breakfast smells wonderful." Raoul took a deep breath in. With a content smile, his eyes closed in pleasure as he rubbed his belly absentmindedly. The self-consciousness from yesterday was no longer there. He hid nothing in his expression as he met Philippe's gaze guilelessly.

"Yes," Philippe responded slowly, "it does smell good."

Without preamble, Raoul began to eat with gusto. In between bites, he cast confused glances at Philippe, who had yet to begin. He finally had to slow down to ask, "Is something wrong?"

Philippe shook his head but still continued to study Raoul's overall demeanor. "No." He muttered to himself, "Apparently nothing."

"Do I have something on my face?" Raoul quickly passed the back of his hand across his mouth. Sheepishly, he added, "It feels like I haven't eaten in days."

Philippe chose not to mention that his hunger was probably due to the fact that he had barely eaten anything for dinner the night before.

"There's nothing on your face," he replied, "I was just lost in thought."

Appeased with the answer, Raoul continued to eat.

Starting on his own food, Philippe couldn't help but wonder if he had imagined the secret Raoul was supposedly hiding from him. Maybe Raoul had really simply missed him and a night in his old room under the same roof was all he needed to calm down. It could have been embarrassment that led him to act so nervously. Raoul _was_ an adult now and missing his brother was not usually acceptable behaviour, especially from a sailor.

The reasons suited the situation well enough. It should've been enough for him, but he couldn't help but watch his brother's every movement. Raoul was nothing but energetic though. No sighs, no averted eyes. Nothing.

Trying to ignore his suspicions, Philippe asked conversationally, "Did you sleep well, brother?"

Now, he definitely hadn't imagined that slight cringe.

Raoul was quick to recover. He smiled brightly, as though his fork hadn't shaken so badly that the melon he'd speared had almost fallen off, as though he hadn't ducked his head a fraction too late to hide the wince, as though nothing had happened at all. "Of course. My room was just as I'd left it," he said with a grin, which was almost wistful.

"Brother," Philippe said expecting another cringe, but Raoul gave no reaction to the endearment. He finished lamely, "How could I change your room?"

Smiling, Raoul shrugged. "I might want to live on my own one of these days. You would be able to change it then."

Philippe couldn't help it. He frowned openly at the idea of Raoul living anywhere but with him.

Seeing his expression, Raoul laughed. It was an airy sound that actually made Philippe more displeased that Raoul could joke about such a subject. "But don't worry. The navy will keep me busy for some years to come and I'll still visit you whenever I can."

Philippe wondered who sat with him at breakfast. Was this really _his_ Raoul? It couldn't be. Though unsettled with the direction of their conversation, he still saw the opportunity to address just one of apparently many confusing occurrences surrounding his brother's return, "Now are you going to explain why you're able to be here early?" He tried to make it sound conversational, but even he could hear the concern in the inquiry.

Raoul replied without hesitation, "We arrived earlier than expected. Good weather and everything."

Still not appeased with the answer, Philippe pressed, "And how are the others treating you?"

At that, Raoul openly frowned at him, giving him an incredulous look. "I'm no longer a child, _brother_," and Philippe knew that he used that word deliberately. He didn't stumble over it at all. "I think I'm able to handle them."

That was probably the truth. Philippe also knew that nothing _too_ bad could happen. After all, he'd spoken with Raoul's commanding officer, sent letters explaining that if anything were to happen to his brother, he would have hell to pay. Philippe was certain that none of the others would be able to treat him too poorly, but there were some things that couldn't be helped.

"Just good-natured ribbing amongst us all," Raoul added.

It was a small action, but for some reason, Raoul had chosen that moment to continue eating, a nonverbal way to change the subject or divert attention. Philippe hadn't taught him that particular move, but he used it himself quite often in the dinner parties they used to attend. Certain that it was something Raoul had picked up from him, he wasn't sure whether he should be flattered or annoyed. He chose the former.

They made small talk about the weather and their sisters, but that didn't last long. Eventually, they drifted off into silence as they ate, but it wasn't the heavy quiet from the night before. It was simply because Raoul barely slowed down eating to hold a proper conversation.

Philippe managed to finish first, having eaten considerably less than Raoul. Placing his napkin beside his plate, he asked, "What are we going to do today?"

In his mind, he was already planning how he'd try to get another reaction from Raoul. He wanted to test his theory about his endearment when Raoul's guard was lowered. Moreover, he was going to subtly refer to yesterday's behaviour and breach that subject. As it were, he was still wavering between whether Raoul was hiding something or not. His brother wasn't usually all that great in hiding things from him, so this sudden turnaround was perplexing. Once again, Philippe wondered how much Raoul would have had to change for him not to be able to know exactly what he was thinking. The only reason he wasn't more agitated about it was the knowledge that he had a whole day to make things right.

At his question, Raoul's smile faltered once more. He looked apologetically at Philippe. "I thought that you'd probably be busy today. So, I sent a note to my colleagues that we'd spend today together." He hurriedly added, "But if you have anything in mind, I'll immediately tell them otherwise."

"No," Philippe responded immediately though he couldn't quite hide his dismay. It was confusing to say the least. Raoul never met up with his colleagues unless Philippe was truly busy and couldn't make time for him.

"I didn't want to be in your way," Raoul added, "Especially since I'd come early."

He sounded sincere, but even though it would clearly be in Raoul's normal behaviour to think such a thing, Philippe couldn't shake the feeling that Raoul was trying to avoid him. Or, scarily enough, Philippe wondered if his little brother was just growing older, drifting further from him as he'd seen his own peers' siblings drift away. Philippe refused to believe such a thing. Other brothers might only see each other only at holidays but not he and Raoul.

"You're right," Philippe found himself saying. He wanted to assuage Raoul's fears. There was nothing wrong with Raoul spending time away from him, and ordering him never to leave his side was simply absurd. He mentally added, just as absurd as Raoul keeping something from him and them drifting apart.

He _did_ have some business to attend to. That contract he'd tried to focus on yesterday still needed to be attended to, and honestly, he didn't have anything planned for them to do today. It was actually rather considerate of his brother.

He had just been looking forward to simply spending time with him regardless. There was something soothing being in the same room as him. It eased anxieties he didn't even know he had until Raoul was in his sight.

"Just have fun today." He intoned as he waited for his good-bye hug or if Raoul was really overenthusiastic enough, an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Instead, Raoul stood and waved at him before leaving the back way, the way that led him through the kitchen and out of the house. It was a roundabout path to get to the stables. Still, Raoul's smile was genuine as he glanced over his shoulder. "Don't wait up."

Philippe forgot to smile. He sat at the head of the table, staring at Raoul's empty place by his side.

It was a path that specifically _didn't_ pass him.

o.o.o.o

End chapter

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Story Note: Yeah, I know. What the hell is going on with Raoul? Hopefully, Philippe will figure it out soon. Btw, I apparently love brother complexes.


	3. Distance

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He simply loved him too much.  
Warning(s): slash, incest pairing  
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul  
Word Count: 2,207

A/N: Did you notice how the word count keeps going up? It's rather annoying. The longer the chapter is the less time I have to edit it.  
Story note: I feel bad for Philippe; he's so confused with Raoul's behaviour. Then again, we're all pretty confused about it.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me  
Chapter 03: Distance  
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Philippe did wait up.

He had no choice but to since he was worried. Raoul's 'colleagues' weren't known for having the best behaviour on a good night. He could just imagine what they would do when a long absent friend returned. Throughout the day, he'd kept an ear open for Raoul's return. He half-expected the whole lot of them to return to the estate inebriated and loud some time by mid-afternoon. And, when they didn't appear, he waited for them to arrive early in the evening maybe because they had been causing too much trouble in public or maybe because they'd all already drunk themselves into a stupor. Raoul _had_ been gone since morning; Philippe sorely doubted they'd wait before they began drinking. But, just like in the afternoon, there had been no sign of them.

Keeping a watchful eye on the sun's progress throughout the day, Philippe couldn't help but think of his brother and the hug they'd first shared. Then, he would think about his behaviour, his silence, his melancholy, and he'd be tempted to leave the house and find Raoul himself, dragging him back home if necessary. Somehow, he managed to finish work instead.

Raoul didn't come home until early in the morning. Philippe heard him come up the stairs even though it was obvious by the timid squeaking of loose floorboards that his brother was trying to be silent. There were no obvious sounds of stumbling that would indicate Raoul had indeed had a terribly good time with his friends, but Philippe couldn't be certain. All he could tell from his spot right by his bedroom door was that Raoul was alone. He refused to put his ear on the door to hear better because then that would be spying. As it were, he just happened to be standing near the door where it was easier to hear Raoul open his bedroom door and shut it quietly.

Come morning, a few hours later, Philippe had breakfast alone. He had half a mind to wake Raoul up and chastise him, but thought otherwise. He knew that would simply be vindictive. Raoul had every right to return home at whatever time he wanted. He was an adult – an adult who hadn't been home in months and chose to spend the time with his friends rather than his brother.

With that thought, Philippe threw his napkin on the table and stormed up the stairs to his den before throwing himself into work. If he saw Raoul in this state, he would do and say things that would be regrettable and from his perspective, they were already wasting valuable time. There was no need to make matters worse.

It was the afternoon when Philippe finally saw Raoul. His brother was in the sitting room, a book in his lap. If his attention were any indication though, he wasn't doing much reading. Raoul's eyes were fixed on some point outside the window. And even then, Philippe was certain Raoul wasn't seeing much of anything.

Taking advantage of Raoul's ignorance of his presence, Philippe took the moment to examine him. He looked tired. There was darkness beneath his eyes and he was slumped against the chair he sat upon. Either he'd had a really good night or he was finally feeling the repercussions of that tumultuous change of behaviours in the last two days.

If Philippe were a less caring brother, he would have been glad that Raoul looked as tired as he felt frustrated. Instead, he felt empathy. His own frustrations and anxieties about what Raoul was hiding were pushed aside as he worried about Raoul himself.

Making his presence known by clearing his throat, Philippe entered the room fully. Even with the courtesy he'd given, Raoul scrambled to his feet upon seeing him approach his seat. Just a few steps away from each other, Raoul took several steps backwards when that distance was threatened.

"Brother."

Philippe wondered how it was that Raoul managed to sound surprised to see him when he lived and worked in the house. He motioned for Raoul to sit back down before sitting on the sofa, which was quite a distance away. There was no need for Raoul to be more nervous than necessary, and apparently, proximity played a large role in that. He sat with a sigh.

"How was your outing last night, brother?" Philippe tried to ignore the tense posture of his brother. There was no reaction to the endearment though. After all, he didn't think it was possible for Raoul to be any tenser.

Raoul didn't even bother to smile. Instead, he answered, "Tiring. It was tiring."

Philippe nodded, unsurprised by his response. Raoul was nothing like his colleagues, a fact which Philippe was proud of. "You look tired," he added, his tone gentler almost teasing; Raoul probably had already learned his lesson, so there was no need to chastise him. Then again, Philippe had decided before their conversation had even begun that there would be no harsh words in this exchange, not when he knew doing so would only make things more difficult for his brother.

The bitter laugh that was Raoul's response was a little surprising though. It was a large reaction for such a small observation. He did relax a fraction though, leaning against the back of the seat.

"I," Raoul paused, choosing his words carefully. He leaned heavily against the back of the chair and looked down at his hands for a long while before restarting his thought, "I haven't had a reprieve in so long. I don't even know how I got up today."

"Brother," and again there was no reaction, "naval life _is_ trying." Philippe stifled his desire to move closer to Raoul, to place a comforting hand on those slumped shoulders. However, he was certain his touch would be anything but comforting.

Raoul blinked several times, looking up at Philippe as though he didn't understand where that statement had come from. In a moment of clarity, Philippe realized that they probably _had _been talking about two different things at that moment.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Raoul sat up a little straighter and the fatigue was not quite gone, but less obvious. "How was your day?"

Philippe didn't know if he could keep up with Raoul's varying reactions. Instead of trying to figure it out, he answered, "It was also tiring but quite productive."

Raoul leaned forward, truly interested. "And the contract?"

It took a second to remember which contract Raoul referred to. When he did remember, Philippe waved off Raoul's concern, "Perfectly alright now. I told you not to worry about it."

Nodding, Raoul leaned back before opening and closing his mouth mutely several times in failed attempts to start a new conversation. Philippe watched with some amusement, practically able to see the topics being rejected just before being vocalized.

When he finally did speak, it was to hesitantly ask, "And everything else? How is everything else going for you?"

Confused about how Raoul asked the question, Philippe hesitated himself, not quite sure what he was asking. "I'm… well, healthy if that's what you're asking."

"'Well?' That's good, but," Raoul bit his lower lip for a bit, unable to meet Philippe's eyes, "I mean how's your… You know… About…"

"Raoul," Philippe said torn between exasperation and amusement, "what are you asking?"

Raoul ran a hand through his hair. "Do you have a fiancé yet? I mean, are you considering marriage?" He hurriedly added, "I mean. We're the only two left to be married. Our sisters are happy." He looked up at Philippe then, and it was clear that Raoul had worried about this subject for a while now. "I want you to be happy, too. It must be lonely here, and I left you all alone and I've heard you haven't really brought anyone over for a while. Though there is that dancer, but I've only heard from the others…"

Philippe raised a hand to stop him from continuing. Smiling, he shook his head. "Marriage does not seem to be in the foreseeable future."

Frowning, Raoul asked, "Why? You're not lonely?"

Sighing dramatically, Philippe looked heavenwards. "Life does become quite dreary without you here, but somehow, I find myself living yet."

Instead of the laugh that Philippe thought he would receive in response to that, there was only silence. He quickly glanced back down to Raoul who had averted his eyes and was worrying his hands on his lap.

"Raoul?" An idea suddenly came to Philippe. What if these questions were related to what Raoul had said yesterday? About changing his room and moving away. Were they naturally drifting apart or did Raoul simply want to leave him? "Are _you_ lonely?"

Raoul's head snapped up. "Me?" He exhaled sharply. "No. How could I feel lonely, brother? I'm surrounded by people constantly."

"Well, did you meet a lady last night?" Philippe pressed. "Or maybe in your travels?"

"A lady?" Raoul said slowly, as though the very word, like the idea was foreign to him.

It should have been a good sign that Raoul wasn't thinking about marriage just yet, but that hope was shattered when Raoul simply shrugged.

"You're looking for a wife?" Philippe said incredulously, shocked at himself when he raised his voice.

Raoul ran a hand through his hair again. "No. It's not that."

When Raoul stopped at that statement, Philippe almost stood from his chair. "Then what is it?" He barely managed to ask in a calmer voice.

"I've been thinking…" Raoul turned slightly so that he could look out the window again, "There are things expected of us. We have certain things we must do in this life and marriage is one of them. Soon, they'll expect me to find a wife and have children."

Philippe stared at his brother, numb with the realization that he spoke the truth. He, himself, had never followed that path, mostly because their parents had died and he'd raised his siblings himself. He'd skipped marriage and went directly into having children. As such, he'd been busy providing for his family and making sure that every one of them never wanted for anything. But Raoul… his dear brother would follow that path. He would come back from the navy to settle down in a house that didn't have Philippe in it with a woman who would take all of Raoul's attention and have children that would only make it impossible for Raoul to visit in general.

It was the distance that had been present between them ever since Raoul had come back. Distance that had existed even when Raoul had hugged him. Maybe it had been some sort of good-bye while Raoul planned his happy future, and Philippe could do nothing to stop him. He couldn't do anything to stop the closest, most important person in his life from leaving because Philippe couldn't deny Raoul anything. If Raoul wanted a marriage, Philippe would search the ends of the world to find a woman that would make him happy. If he wanted a house that was far from their main estate, Philippe would pick the one with the best view and the perfect atmosphere that suited Raoul's temperament.

"Philippe. Brother? Are you alright?"

Philippe pulled back, realizing that he'd buried his face in his hands. Raoul had stood up and crossed the room to stand timidly beside him, his worry palpable and Philippe wrapped himself in it to assuage some of the more bleak thoughts that had come with the idea of Raoul's future. He tried to convince himself that he had expected it; it was the natural order of things after all. The problem was that Philippe had _never _considered the idea of Raoul not being around.

Philippe offered a weak smile of his own. "You're growing up too fast if you're worried about all of that. It's so soon."

"I've grown," Raoul stated.

Philippe nodded, giving himself a wry smile. He had.

"And you're not lonely?" Raoul asked again, quietly.

Answering as honestly as he could without unnecessarily worrying his brother, Philippe replied, "Raoul. You needn't worry about me in your plans for the future." He quickly added, "As long as you visit of course," perhaps too vehemently when he saw Raoul's eyes widen at his tone, looking unconvinced. He wanted to laugh it off but he knew it would come out bitterly. Raoul was worried about _him_, worried that when he finally did leave that Philippe would be unhappy. He couldn't let him worry about such things. He was the older brother.

Seeing Raoul take a step back when he made the slightest of movements, Philippe took a deep breath. Raoul was just practicing the distance they'd have. Maybe he wasn't even conscious of it.

"I have some work to finish before dinner." Philippe stood up slowly. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation later?"

Raoul looked a bit preoccupied himself, his eyes unfocused. He didn't immediately react to the obvious dismissal, his brows furrowed in thought, but he nodded when he realized what Philippe had said. Returning to his seat, he retrieved his book. Philippe walked out of the room without checking to see if Raoul was even pretending to read.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 03

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Story Note: Philippe's such a parent, unwilling to let a child free. Which is a really weird comment considering this is about to get all incest-y. It's got to. There are only six chapters.


	4. Resolve

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He simply loved him too much.  
Warning(s): slash, incest pairing, rating applicable to this chapter  
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul  
Word Count: 2,794

A/N: I am entirely too in love with Philippe at the moment. Isn't it sad that I show my love for a character by making them angsty? However, I would almost give anything to be Philippe at this moment. Oh, and I had a very bad time with tenses in this chapter. Annoying really.  
Story note: Every time they talk things get worse. Stupid Raoul and his questions. Making Philippe feel all old and lonely.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me  
Chapter 04: Resolve  
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Philippe wouldn't say that he had been avoiding Raoul, at least not in so many words. He had just needed time to reconcile the idea of Raoul leaving to the fact that he didn't want him to, and they simply refused to be reconciled.

If he thought about it, he hadn't felt this conflicted when his sisters had gotten married. In fact, he'd been overjoyed for them; their leaving had only been a by-product of their respective marriages. Their husbands were good men and would treat them well. They _did_ treat them well, but after mentally reviewing the past year, he noted that they rarely visited. Still, he hadn't complained about their absence, and he loved his sisters dearly.

Anything they'd ever wanted, he'd provided for them. Of course, they had been older when their parents had died and that event had made them rather self-sufficient. They hadn't needed much from him. Raoul, on the other hand, had been showered with attention from himself, his sisters, and their aunt. Raoul thrived under attention and Philippe was never inattentive when it came to his brother. It had always been time well-spent in his opinion.

So, it seemed rather obvious that he'd have a problem with Raoul's absence; he would, without a doubt, miss him if he lived elsewhere. The only reason he'd allowed Raoul to join the navy was because his brother had really wanted to – want was a light term; Raoul had been determined. Given the decision himself, Philippe would have immediately refused him enlisting. But whatever Raoul wanted… Philippe had laid his head on his desk in an effort to calm down. He could never say no. Sure, they would argue, but they both knew that in the end, Raoul would have his way.

He didn't know why he fought in the first place – maybe it was because the confrontations eventually led to apologies. They'd hug tightly, removing the mere idea of distance between them and hurt feelings, and Philippe would feel that much closer to Raoul. He'd never be able to stay angry with him for long.

This wasn't one of those times where he could confront Raoul though. This wasn't some flight of fancy like that one time Raoul had tried to hunt foxes without a horse or guns or even the know-how of trapping. This was Raoul's future and if anyone was wrong about how they felt about his plans, it was Philippe. Raoul deserved all the happiness in the world; he deserved a marriage and a happy family. Philippe had left the sitting room to avoid the disagreement he had wanted to start, and Raoul hadn't followed. He wasn't sure whether he'd been relieved or disappointed that he'd been given the space he wanted.

It hadn't been until dinnertime that they saw each other, and once again, he had been wholly unprepared for Raoul's behavior. That hesitancy, the pensiveness from earlier had been a long forgotten memory. There had been no more slumped shoulders or nervous fingers running through his hair. Raoul was smiling, the fatigue from earlier gone.

Philippe had been so confused; he'd even been compelled to ask if Raoul was feeling alright. That was, when he finally managed to get a word between Raoul's non-stop chatter. He wasn't even sure what his brother had been talking about in that moment, but he'd been gesticulating rather energetically, so much so that Philippe had had to pry the fork out of his hand just to ensure his own safety.

And that act in itself was surprising because Raoul hadn't shied away from his touch. In fact, several times during his storytelling, Raoul had reached over and oh-so-casually placed a hand on his arm or even went so far as to grab his wrist. His laughter had filled up the dining room and Philippe had remembered every other time that Raoul had returned home.

His mind simply couldn't keep up. It was exhausting noting the differences and similarities of his visits and wondering what would come next.

By the end of dinner, Philippe had come to the only conclusion that made sense. Raoul was better because Philippe had actually done well to assuage his fears about their future. Raoul was finally able to act normally. Now, this thought came with mixed emotions. Philippe knew he should be glad because they didn't have to avoid each other or deal with confusing conversations and awkward moments. On the other hand, their impending future, though ultimately uncertain, was more than likely to be lived apart.

All he had to do though was look at his brother and he had to admit to himself that Raoul looked considerably better. He _was _happy that he'd made Raoul feel better. He _was_. It had only been his own fatigue that had made him reluctant to accept Raoul's invitation that they spend the evening together in the sitting room drinking wine and talking late into the night like they once used to. Just like with everything else, Raoul managed to talk him into it, doing so looking entirely too pleased with himself.

That was why they were currently sitting side by side on the sofa, a half-empty bottle on the table in front of them, the dark of night almost swallowing them whole except for the already dying fire in the hearth. They'd been talking about the adventures Raoul had on the open seas. It seemed his brother never failed to have a new story, but somewhere into his second glass, he had started repeating stories Philippe had already heard. After finishing his third glass, at what seemed to Philippe faster than he normally drank, Raoul's laughter died down and all of his energy seemed to disappear.

Instead, he sat, a warm body pressed tightly against his own. Once the smile and exuberance was gone, Philippe was left with a rather nervous looking brother who stared at his empty glass as though it would give him courage, a thought which explained Raoul's pace of drinking. Raoul bit his bottom lip, hesitation clear in his expression.

Philippe had been surprised that Raoul had chosen to sit beside him, surprised that only after the first glass of wine his brother had begun to lean a little more than necessary against him. It was true that Raoul had never had the countenance to drink very much, but one glass was a bit quick.

When Raoul leaned forward to reach for the bottle again, Philippe stayed his hand.

"If you want to be able to keep talking, another glass would make that rather difficult."

Raoul didn't look that inebriated, but Philippe didn't want to take the chance. He knew there was a reason Raoul had asked him to talk and knew that Raoul was simply postponing the inevitable.

Nodding, the younger Chagny placed his glass down before leaning back. Philippe could feel Raoul tense before he began.

"There's something I need to tell you."

Philippe turned a fraction, loathe to lose the contact but needing to in order to maintain eye contact. "Okay. I'm listening." He'd concluded that Raoul was going to tell him that he'd met someone already; he'd been trying to mentally prepare himself. More or less, he'd been trying to figure out the proper response to such news that wouldn't make him seem unhappy.

"Well," Raoul gestured impotently with his hands before seeing that Philippe's wine glass in his hands that was only half-finished.

It was still only his first glass. Philippe hadn't felt much like drinking and had instead chosen to watch Raoul drink instead.

"Maybe you should put that down first," Raoul suggested before fumbling a bit as he grabbed both Philippe's hands and the glass when he tried to extract it from his grip.

Philippe took Raoul's frenzied hands in his own to calm him down, gripping them tightly for a moment before placing the glass down himself. Looking up, he noted, "You looked flushed. Is the alcohol going to your head?"

Raoul rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand, eyes glancing downwards. "It must be."

Giving him a reassuring smile, Philippe took Raoul's other hand so that it would stop twisting the material of his pants so tightly. He was going to tell Raoul there was nothing to be nervous about before he realized that Raoul was sweating. "Are you alright?" This was more than nerves.

Laughing nervously, Raoul pulled his hand away but didn't move any further. "Perhaps I drank too quickly."

"Perhaps," Philippe looked at him uncertainly.

Raoul took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself before saying, "I'm fine. Really."

Not able to tell Raoul that he was actually failing miserably at looking alright, Philippe prompted, "You were saying?"

There was a pause before the words practically tumbled out of Raoul's mouth, "You'd never deny me anything, right?"

Philippe looked at him, bemused. There was a determination in his eyes that reminded him of that time so long ago when Raoul had asked for his very own stallion.

"And you'd never hate me?" Raoul added, almost a whisper, leaning forward a bit so that Philippe could hear him.

He was so close that Philippe could smell the wine on his breath. "I could never," he asserted firmly. Such a thing was impossible.

"Then," Raoul started breathlessly, flushing red.

He leaned forward and Philippe thought he was going to swoon. He reached up towards Raoul's shoulders to steady him. "Raoul?"

Raoul jerked back suddenly with a whimper. "I-I can't. I just…" He looked panicked, hands twisted on his lap pulling his shirt forward over his lap, and eyes looking anywhere but at Philippe. His breathing was quick and he was still flushed, maybe moreso than before. He stood up quickly, as though the other side of the sofa where he'd jerked back to was suddenly too close. "I don't feel well. I think it best I sleep it off," he said in a pained voice, before nearly running out of the room and up the stairs.

Snapped out of his stupor, Philippe called after him, "Wait, Raoul!" but received no reply. He stood in the empty room, staring out towards the stairs in confusion. He'd missed something.

And now things were back to where they had started.

It took a moment but Philippe made up his mind. Raoul had wanted to tell him something and he was going to. Determined not to leave things as they were, he swallowed the rest of his wine in one gulp before heading up the stairs. He determined that his nervousness was only due to the fact that Raoul was going to tell him about his love interest.

It was dark and the house was silent. The candles had been doused but it wasn't difficult to reach Raoul's door. He hesitated there, unable to simply open it. No light shone beneath the door and Philippe wondered if Raoul really was just ill from having drunk the wine too quickly. He knocked on the door quietly, leaning close.

He heard some indeterminate movement before complete silence. Philippe was almost certain that Raoul wasn't going to answer without more prompting so he called out. "I just need to know you're alright." That wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he conceded the fact that Raoul could very well be ill. He couldn't be too demanding.

It took a few moments, and Philippe could hear the rustling of sheets on the bed. So, Raoul had in fact gone straight to bed.

His brother sounded breathless when he answered. "I-I'm fine, Philippe."

Philippe wondered at the feeble response. Raoul hadn't given him permission to enter the room though, so he stayed where he was. "Brother," he called out to make sure Raoul was really alright.

Raoul moaned so softly that Philippe barely heard it.

"It's," Raoul cleared his throat. "It's my stomach. I feel" his voice hitched "warm." The next words came out pleading, "I can't…" his voice broke, "Go away, please."

Philippe desperately wanted to ask, _Can't what? What are you hiding?_ He placed a hand flat upon the door, struggling with himself. He wanted to open it; his hand twitched with the desire, but Raoul had begged. He'd asked and Philippe found himself granting Raoul's wish albeit reluctantly. He slowly walked away, constantly looking back towards Raoul's bedroom. He even made it to opening his own bedroom door before stopping. Something was wrong with his brother. Raoul had sounded like he was really in pain; he couldn't just leave him alone.

Shutting his door a little more loudly than necessary in hopes that Raoul would think he'd gone to bed, he waited a few seconds. The silence sounded deeper and if he had taken just a moment to think about what he was doing, he would have immediately gone into his bedroom. Luckily, he didn't pause to think. All he knew was that Raoul needed him whether he wanted him in his room or not.

When he finally felt it safe to continue, he cautiously made his way back to Raoul's door. He avoided all the necessary areas that would have made his presence known, all the while checking to make sure no one was around. The darkness was a blessing. He felt less foolish when he leaned his ear against his brother's door, both his hands by his head pressing against it to carry his weight. It took some adjusting, forcing his breathing to become silent and ignoring his own loudly beating heart, but he could make out Raoul's uneven breathing.

At first, he thought Raoul was crying, but then, Raoul was shifting on his bed. He knew his brother's chosen position to cry was burying his face into the pillow. When Raoul had been younger, Philippe had always been the one to find him asleep like that after an argument. Raoul wasn't crying if he was moving.

Philippe suddenly heard a whimper and he found himself flushing. His eyes widened before the thought even had a chance to fully form in his mind. His own breathing now sounded ragged, loud. Much too loud and he worried that Raoul would hear him through the door.

He held his breath, desperately needing confirmation on what he was just now beginning to suspect. He pressed against the door tighter. Raoul's breathing was more uneven than before, louder, as though he was having problems controlling himself, and Philippe found himself pressing his cheek against the door just to cool himself down. His face was hot but the blood had begun to rush elsewhere. One hand moved from its place by his head, drifting downwards to follow the same path before he realized what he was doing. He had a much more difficult time stopping himself than acknowledging what he'd been about to do.

He couldn't think straight. His thoughts were jumbled, tumbling around the one notion that had formed and couldn't be banished.

Raoul's breathing sped up and Philippe couldn't hold his breath any longer. It came out in a harsh exhale, his stomach clenching when his mind cleared to one vibrant and all-too-real image of Raoul writhing in his bed, blonde hair splayed out, the sheets tangled in his legs. His brother's hand was down his trousers because Raoul wouldn't have taken them off. No, it was better when they stayed on, his erection trapped in that tight confine, his legs barely finding purchase against the smooth sheets as his fist pumped steadily while he did his best to keep silent.

Philippe gulped at the air as he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but that only made the image clearer. He could hear Raoul's breaths as though there weren't a door between them. His hands clenched into fists. He could see Raoul flushing even though he knew it was too dark in the room to be able to really see anything. He, himself, bit his lower lip in a subconscious mirror of what he'd seen Raoul doing in the sitting room. And, he could see Raoul doing the same just to stifle his voice.

When Raoul let out a low groan, Philippe jerked away from the door much like how Raoul had jerked away from his touch. He knew he was flushed, knew he wanted to wanted to pull his shirt out just to hide his painful erection, knew he might never be able to look Raoul in the eyes again.

He shook his head in a poor effort to clear his mind of that sound, a sound which he didn't think he'd ever forget. As an afterthought, Philippe quickly checked the hallways. Still empty. He stared at Raoul's door wide-eyed, his pulse beating loudly in his ears, before uncomfortably making his way back to his room.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 04

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Story Note: And there's the M rating. I can't even believe I wrote that. I do want Philippe's imagination though. Raoul could have simply had a stomach ache. But we know he didn't, and now, Philippe knows as well.


	5. Collapse

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He simply loved him too much.  
Warning(s): slash, incest pairing  
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul  
Word Count: 2,515

A/N: I was going to skip to the next morning without sharing Philippe's bit, but it seemed unfair considering the fact that this story is limited to Philippe's POV.  
Story note: What is he going to do now? All I know is that things can only potentially get better from here.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me  
Chapter 05: Collapse  
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Philippe had been less cautious in his haste to return to his room, but he doubted that Raoul would have heard the slight creak that belied his steps through the corridor anyway. If Raoul's heart was pounding just a fraction as loudly as his own, then there would be no way for him to be able to hear anything outside his room.

If only it were the sound of his heart that kept him from hearing anything – but no, Philippe could only hear Raoul's final groan in his head, an echo that refused to fade.

Remaining in front of Raoul's door hadn't been much of an option though. In fact, the only option had been to retreat back to his room so that he could rationally think about what he'd just heard and how he'd reacted to it. Walking proved difficult though when every step created a sweet friction that made Philippe's breath catch in his throat. He finally allowed himself to palm his erection through his trousers just to ease some of the ache before reaching his room.

It was a lewd gesture that he hadn't had to do in years, and it was only now that his discipline was breaking, that his restraint was unraveling did he do so. It _had _unraveled already at that door, leaving him raw with desire.

In the distance between his own bedroom door and his bed, he'd shed every article of clothing he wore, keeping a shirt in hand. He didn't even wait until he was on the bed before firmly grasping his erection, unbidden images of Raoul doing the same still flashing through his mind. He was weak for not pushing the thoughts away, too weak to be able to do so when he could still hear the little noises Raoul had made.

He forcibly reminded himself that there was no need to prolong the sensation, as good as it felt. It was simply something that had to be done.

He was on the bed before those images became not of Raoul pleasuring himself but of Raoul pleasuring _him_. His stomach clenched and his hand tightened, just barely on the side of comfortable. His hips jerked automatically and his breathing became uneven, but through it all, Philippe forced himself to remain calm, focusing only on finishing. He couldn't allow himself to become swept up in fantasy – fantasy had always been corrupting and Philippe remembered the debauchery he'd allowed himself to fall into in the not-so-distant past.

And luckily, it didn't take much to finish. He'd been close before he even began to touch himself. He could barely remember a time that he'd felt so aroused. He came with his own stifled groan into his shirt before riding the pleasurable aftershocks of his orgasm.

It was quick and perfunctory, bar those initial images, and Philippe tossed the shirt aside before completely relaxing on the bed, the sweat from his skin cooling rather quickly. He rested his hands on his stomach, feeling it rise and fall with each deep breath. He knew that it was only now that he could possibly even begin to think, now that his blood could finally flow to other regions of his body.

This wasn't the first time that Philippe had had to relieve himself in such a manner. At first, he'd been ashamed of it, ashamed of the arousal he would feel. It had taken months of restless nights and non-functioning mental faculties because of sexual frustrations before he'd learned it was best to relieve himself so that he could think properly.

He forced himself to stay away from imagining various scenarios since it had always been the same scenario in his head, the one that had made him question himself even as it brought embarrassing erections. However, he kept that image far from his mind, particularly to keep himself sane. He chose only to focus on the feeling, on the way his stomach burned with arousal and the slight jerking of his hips, the way the pleasure built up and the feel of his own hand.

Never lingering very long, he tried not to take too much pleasure from it, knowing that he'd become addicted to the sensation. And he'd been disciplined enough that he hadn't had to worry about such things in a while.

But Raoul…

This revelation was something else entirely.

He himself had long ago named the desire that lay within him. He'd confronted it and though was never able to contain it, could do well enough to control his urges, as insane an urge as he'd once thought it to be. He'd reconciled himself to the fact that within himself there was a compulsion to possess Raoul. He wanted to be everything to him, more than just brother – brother, father, mother, friend, confidant, teacher, lover. Everything.

For a short but maddening few months in their past, he'd done everything to keep Raoul all to himself. He'd driven away everyone who might possibly become close to his brother. He'd monopolized all of Raoul's attention and dragged him wherever he went, and his wonderful brother hadn't said anything. He hadn't complained about the lack of socialization, the lack of his own free time. No, he'd joyfully gone along and had been gracious about all the time Philippe had been willing to spend with him. _Gracious._ Looking at his brother's loving expression at his own captivity, Philippe had come to his senses.

Instead, he'd learned to content himself with the fact that he was the closest person to his younger brother, that no matter who Raoul socialized with, Philippe would always be the one Raoul would return to to speak of all things. And it was enough, enough because Raoul seemed content. He'd kept his distance because it had been necessary. There was nothing that he wouldn't do happily to ensure he didn't jeopardize their relationship, so it had only been natural to suppress those particular urges.

Now though was another matter.

Raoul thought he would be troubled by this revelation? Philippe actually laughed. He loved Raoul and stood by that. No matter what he could possibly learn about him, it wouldn't change that one fact. Raoul could hate him and he would still love him, but this… Raoul _loved _him. How could he feel anything but glad that it wasn't hate, relief that it wasn't another person, overjoyed that he could keep the dearest person to his heart with him?

But Raoul was still hesitating, and Philippe wondered just how long Raoul had wanted him – he forced himself to think of unappealing thoughts before continuing. It would do no good if he was constantly aroused while trying to think. Taking a deep breath, he wondered if there'd been signs, and now, every small detail that shouldn't and probably didn't mean anything in the past now took on a connotation directly related to this new information.

It definitely could explain why Raoul had acted so oddly since arriving. Raoul was frustrated with himself, trying to deny what he felt, uncertain. Tonight though, he'd been about to… Philippe sighed frustratedly. Raoul had been drinking to build up courage, and then, he'd leaned in closely, not because he'd been about to faint, but to kiss him.

He could still clearly smell the alcohol on Raoul's breath and the warmth pressed against his side. Even at dinner, Raoul was trying to entertain him and even touching his arm intermittently. Now he felt like a fool. He, who thought he knew his brother so well, couldn't even see that Raoul, in his own awkward way, had been trying to seduce him.

What was he going to do now though? He couldn't simply tell his brother he'd managed to eavesdrop after he pretended to go to his own room. It would sound presumptuous of him to imply that he knew Raoul had been thinking of him while… well, he would rather not embarrass him either way. He could leave out what had just happened and confront him about their aborted conversation. Maybe he could even try to get Raoul to seduce him again.

Deciding that was the best course of action, Philippe let the confusion and worry of the past few days drain from him and settled in to sleep.

o.o.o

Come morning, Philippe was ready to speak with Raoul first thing in the morning. However, he was sorely disappointed when Raoul claimed to still be feeling ill. Thinking about how much alcohol and how quickly Raoul had drunk the night before, he forced himself to be patient.

As of this morning though, Philippe's patience was running quite thin. He could barely concentrate on anything but the one fact that Raoul _wanted _him. It took all of his self-discipline to just keep his composure, and instead of acting rashly, he threw himself into work, telling himself to wait until lunch because then, he'd see Raoul.

However, seated at the table for lunch, Philippe had been surprised to see only one place setting. Asking a servant, he was informed that Raoul had already eaten and had in fact left the house already. Standing up abruptly, the utensils clattered as he bumped the table. He didn't even know what he'd been planning to do. Chase after Raoul? At the servant's shocked expression, Philippe cleared his throat and sat back down before telling him to inform him the moment Raoul returned.

It was evening before Philippe would be informed. He'd sat in his den for a few moments, trying to collect his thoughts. Raoul didn't know he knew and therefore, he couldn't be too angry. He wasn't even angry. He was frustrated, more with himself than with Raoul. He was simply too eager.

During the course of the day, he'd wondered if maybe he _had _jumped to the wrong conclusion. Raoul could have been doing anything behind that door – though he seriously doubted that. However, Raoul could have been thinking about someone else entirely. It was all so maddening that he wanted to grab Raoul by the shoulders and force answers out of him. He'd had to remind himself several times already that even though last night had occurred, he'd have to act as though it hadn't.

Philippe walked into the sitting room. He didn't bother to hide his arrival, but Raoul, who had his face buried in his hands mumbling to himself, gave no acknowledgement to his presence. At that moment, Philippe's heart went out to his brother, his own frustrations fading. This was tearing Raoul apart, and Philippe simply had to put an end to his suffering.

When he sat next to him, Raoul started. Philippe slowly placed his arm around Raoul's shoulders, uncertain whether today would be a day that he would accept his touch or not. It was also a way to make sure that Raoul wouldn't run away again. Despite his fears, Raoul only tried to burrow even closer to him, taking comfort in his presence.

"I wouldn't deny you anything," Philippe started and he knew his brother knew what he was talking about. His plan was to continue the previous night's conversation. It was the only way he could think that would get Raoul talking. "I love you."

At this, Raoul actually sobbed, hanging his head so that Philippe couldn't see the tears he knew were being shed. Still, his brother didn't move further away from him.

With his free hand, he gently grabbed Raoul's chin, forcing him to look up. "I love you," Philippe asserted again. "Nothing you say will change that."

Raoul's blue eyes stared at him almost hopefully before he shrugged off Philippe's arm and stood up. "Stop! You don't understand."

"Raoul," Philippe stood up, too. He would have said "brother" but wondered what kind of effect it would have on him in his state. "It doesn't matter what you tell me," he was almost pleading, "_Trust_ me. I will always love you."

Biting his bottom lip, Raoul looked ready to cave in. Instead of running back into his waiting arms, as Philippe expected, Raoul hugged himself and turned away. "You once said that you were proud of me."

Philippe nodded, confused but willing to allow Raoul this tangent if it meant they were still talking. "Yes. You've always made me proud."

"Don't be" was Raoul's curt reply.

Philippe could hear the self-loathing in his voice. He wanted to close the distance between them but stayed where he was, waiting for Raoul to come to him. "How could I not be proud of you?" He asked.

Raoul sighed miserably. "I didn't leave to serve my country."

Philippe bit back the retort that their uncle hadn't either. He'd been escaping the life he couldn't accept, but Raoul was continuing.

"I didn't want to leave." He turned around and his tear-rimmed eyes sought Philippe's. "I didn't."

At this, Philippe replied more hurt than he'd like to admit with the memory of Raoul's decision surprisingly fresh, "You seemed rather eager and adamant about leaving."

"I-," Raoul motioned with his hands before clenching them into fists. "I had to."

"Why?" Philippe asked already knowing the answer, but he needed to hear it from Raoul himself.

Eyes cast to the floor, Raoul shrugged weakly, "I thought leaving would solve my problem."

"Was there something here? Was someone hurting you?" Philippe asked for show.

As expected, Raoul shook his head. He was lost in his own thoughts as he muttered, "It didn't help though. Leaving only made things worse, made the urge…"

His brother sounded so lost that Philippe stepped forward in concern. "Raoul?"

Raoul's head snapped up and he took a step back. "I'm disgusting, Philippe. Depraved." He shook his head, a scowl marring his features.

Philippe shook his head firmly. "No. Never."

His brother laughed harshly at that, and as though it explained how depraved he was, he replied harshly, "I love you."

Philippe nodded with a smile, happier than he knew he should be at the moment. How could those three words ever be unpleasant? How could they not make him feel euphoric? "I know," he tried to sound reassuring, "I love you, too."

"No," Raoul immediately yelled. His hands unclenched then clenched; his voice was quiet when he continued. "I love you…" he looked away, "more than a brother should."

Philippe moved forward to tell Raoul it was alright, but when he was close enough, Raoul pushed him away violently with a petulant "I hate you."

Falling against the couch in shock, he watched as Raoul once again ran from the room and up the stairs.

Philippe wanted to laugh, but settled for a grin in the slim chance that Raoul would hear his laughter. Of all the circumstances that he'd imagine Raoul telling him, he did not expect him to become violent. He smiled fondly. It was so Raoul though – to confess his love as though it were an illness and then become angry with him.

Luckily for Raoul, Philippe wasn't about to hesitate at the door again. He wasn't going to let Raoul push him away ever again.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 05

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Story Note: For some reason, I can imagine Philippe sleeping in the nude. I mean, he's been living in that house all to himself; he'd have no one to worry about, totally unashamed of his body. Aww… that was a bit fluffy to offset the angst. And next chapter is the last and will have pronz.


	6. Satisfy

Fandom: Phantom of the Opera  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.  
Summary: Philippe could never deny Raoul anything. He simply loved him too much.  
Warning(s): slash, incest pairing, rating applicable to this chapter  
Pairing(s): Philippe/Raoul  
Word Count: 2,791

A/N: Why do these types of chapters always take me a lot of time? And why am I so annoyed with Raoul by this point? This didn't turn out how I'd expected, so there may be a retake because Raoul as a crybaby really annoys me (though admittedly, he thinks he's ruined his whole family life and that he'll be disowned but still, stop crying).  
Story note: Last chapter. Philippe better make Raoul see reason.

o.o.o.o

Deny Me  
Chapter 06: Satisfy  
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt

o.o.o.o

Philippe entered Raoul's bedroom cautiously, not quite sure what to expect from him: more tears, violence, projectiles?

Instead, Raoul stood by his bed, his back turned to the door. It took a moment of confusion before Philippe connected the presence of clothes haphazardly strewn across the bed to Raoul's jerky movements. His brother was packing. Philippe noted the messy armoire, its drawers half open with clothes spilling out of it. He was packing hastily.

The only acknowledgment he received was a pause in Raoul's efforts before he grabbed the nearest shirt and stuffed it violently into the pack.

Philippe approached him slowly. The closer he was, the more Raoul hesitated in packing. He knew it was because his brother was torn between speaking to him and ignoring him completely.

When Philippe was an arm's length away, without looking at him, Raoul said, "I'm leaving."

Raoul couldn't hide the tremor in his voice, and he didn't bother to hide the sniffle. Wiping the tears away with the back of his hand, he walked across the room to his drawers, increasing the distance between them. He made certain to avoid Philippe's gaze.

Philippe meandered to the edge of the bed, surprised when he saw that Raoul had actually gotten quite far in packing. This wasn't just a tantrum; Raoul was actually going to leave. Yet, the fear that had accompanied that thought lately was no longer there. He was under no obligation to let Raoul go. In fact, what his brother really wanted was to stay, and Philippe could see the reluctance clearly now.

Running a hand through his hair, he wondered how to even begin. If he said he loved Raoul outright like he had in the sitting room, it was obvious that he would simply be ignored. He could simply _show_ Raoul how much he loved him, but that may be too abrupt a revelation for his brother in his current state. So, he decided humouring him couldn't hurt. "Where are you going?"

Raoul stopped rooting through his drawers and turned around to finally meet Philippe's gaze. The hurt was easy to see, and Philippe almost did apologize for not saying something else, for not simply forbidding Raoul to leave. However, he was determined to make Raoul see that his low opinion of him needed to be corrected. He wanted Raoul to realize that moving away wasn't going to solve anything, at least, not between them.

Raoul sniffled, frowning. He shouldered past Philippe and continued to pack. "I don't really know," he conceded softly. He turned around and pointed at Philippe, the trousers of his naval uniform in hand. "But I'll find somewhere. Maybe back to the port or something," he stated defiantly.

Philippe tried not to smile. He grabbed one of the pantlegs to pull Raoul's hand down from in front of his face. "Why?" He asked simply.

"What?"

"Why," Philippe made sure to annunciate every word, "do you need to leave?"

Raoul tugged at the trousers in an effort to continue packing. Philippe held firm, refusing to let Raoul turn away from him in this conversation again.

Huffing, his brother explained with a pained expression, "You can't possibly want to see me ever again."

"You're my brother," Philippe shrugged. He tugged the pants when Raoul began to turn slightly away again, "How could I not want to see you?"

"You're my _brother_. That's why." When Philippe didn't answer, he dropped his hand so Philippe was the only one holding the trousers, but he did not turn away. He added pitifully, "You can't want me here."

Philippe took only a moment to appreciate Raoul's wording, his eyes darting to the bed, before he answered, "Raoul. Stop packing. It's unnecessary."

Raoul glanced between his clothes and Philippe, silent for long moments before he said, "I can't…"

He was about to argue some more when Raoul finished.

"… you have my trousers."

Glancing down at the said article of clothing, Philippe grinned. Raoul couldn't _pack_ – not _stop packing_. "That's right," he murmured. He could almost swear he heard hope in Raoul's voice, so he said the words that he knew Raoul wanted to hear, "You can't leave. I won't let you."

Even though his brother looked relieved, he was still close to tears. He exhaled sharply, bending forward a bit as his stomach contracted. "I don't deserve to be here."

Philippe tossed the pants on the bed and grabbed Raoul's shoulders with both his hands, holding him upright. "This is your home," he asserted. "It will _always_ be your home."

"Don't you understand?" Raoul grabbed Philippe's hands off his shoulders. He dropped them and tried to move away but Philippe took a step closer to him. Raoul took a reflexive step backwards and the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Forced to sit down, Raoul nearly landed on his luggage. Philippe leaned forward and Raoul's face flushed. He held his breath as Philippe reached past him to grab the luggage and toss it off the bed.

Standing straight, Philippe regarded Raoul seriously. "So, do you hate me or love me?"

Raoul looked at him in confusion for a moment before remembering he'd said he hated Philippe when he pushed him. "This isn't a joke, Philippe."

"I didn't say it was," Philippe replied, "I'd think it was far from it actually. Yet, those two phrases crossed your lips in the past few minutes. Your dear brother is confused."

Crossing his arms in front of him, Raoul refused to look at him. Philippe was almost certain that Raoul wouldn't speak when he stated dejectedly, "I don't hate you. I hate myself."

Sighing, Philippe shook his head. "Don't."

"It's wrong, Philippe," and Raoul finally looked at him, pleading with him to see how wrong it was, "I know it is and I've tried to fight against it, but I can't. I'm so sorry."

Reaching the limits of his patience with Raoul's continued self-recrimination, Philippe cursed and Raoul actually flinched. He looked at his brother with wide eyes and Philippe wondered if Raoul thought he was going to hurt him.

"Is there something wrong with love, Raoul?" Philippe asked, making sure his frustration didn't colour his tone of voice.

He didn't expect Raoul to answer. Cupping Raoul's face with his hands, he used his own sleeves to wipe away the streaks of tears. Raoul just looked up at him, speechless.

"I _love_ you," Philippe said, hoping that he could get through to his brother. "I want to care for you, comfort you, and you feel the same way, right? Do you want to see me happy?"

Raoul nodded and brought his hands up to Philippe's and just like when he'd first arrived, pressed them tightly against his cheeks. His eyes closed, and with a sigh, he replied, "I do, but…"

"But nothing then. You know I'd never deny you anything."

Raoul opened his eyes. He pulled his hands away and Philippe could see that he was still unconvinced. He leaned forward slowly and though Raoul tried to lean away from him, Philippe didn't allow it. He kept his eyes open, watching every single little reaction from Raoul. His brother's breath caught in his throat and his muscles tensed. A tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously. Still, Philippe drew closer and gently pressed his lips against Raoul's.

Pulling away and releasing Raoul from his hold, he saw Raoul's lips quiver. Raoul reached a hand up to touch his lips; he was breathing hard.

"Do you hate _me_ for doing that?" Philippe asked, wondering if Raoul would even be able to respond.

Jerkily, Raoul shook his head. He stood up, swaying a bit, before fisting a hand into the material of Philippe's shirt, holding on as though it were the only thing grounding him. Philippe steadied him – he could feel slight tremors running through Raoul's body and he wondered if it was shock or Raoul having to hold himself back.

Tilting Raoul's head up with his hand, Philippe leaned forward to press his lips against Raoul again, this time more firmly; he held still for longer before pulling away slightly. He lingered close, close enough to feel Raoul's shaky exhale.

"And now?"

Raoul whimpered softly, shaking his head. He swallowed with some difficulty before croaking out, "I love you."

"And I love you." Philippe smiled triumphantly at the responding smile on Raoul's face. His body relaxed into his embrace and Raoul clung to him, his head rested against his shoulder.

And, it was the scenario he'd forced himself to ignore for the longest time. Raoul, willingly in his arms, pressed as tightly together as possible. He could feel his body responding to the thought, to Raoul's warmth and solid presence, more than he'd ever been able to imagine. Now, all he needed to do was maneuver them onto the bed.

Philippe stepped forward, practically pushing Raoul forward. Raoul fell onto the bed with a yelp, looking partly surprised but mostly nervous.

"Philippe?"

Knowing he'd probably have to convince his brother that this step was alright as well, he knelt on the bed and every movement that brought him closer made Raoul move further until his back was pressed against the headboard. As much as Raoul was panicking, Philippe noted the responding arousal pressing against the front of his trousers.

He knelt before his brother and pressed several chaste kisses upon his lips, and while Raoul responded each time, Philippe refused to be the one to take it a step further. Raoul, whose hands had been clutching the pillow covers tightly, made a frustrated noise when Philippe refused to give him more. He reached up, grabbing the back of Philippe's head before deepening their next kiss. His mouth opened, tongue darting forward and Philippe needed no other prompting. At the first brush of their tongues, Raoul moaned low in his throat. Though he tried to press Philippe back so that he could kneel and possibly get some leverage, Philippe wouldn't allow it.

He dominated their kiss, pressing Raoul against the headboard. He wanted Raoul writhing beneath him and to possess him completely, and his thoughts were all centered around that idea. He wanted every moan and every breath. He wanted Raoul to be incoherent and still begging for him. Engaged in their kiss, Philippe trailed his hand down until he pressed against the front of Raoul's trousers, feeling the heat and hardness there.

Raoul bucked and gasped. Before he could protest, Philippe was kissing him again. He rubbed Raoul firmly but much too slowly for Raoul's liking if the jerking of his hips was any indication.

"W-wait," Raoul managed to get out, turning his head to breathe. His cheeks were flushed, his lips wet with saliva, and hair in disarray. Philippe didn't think he'd ever seen Raoul look so striking. "Don't."

Philippe pulled his hand away and Raoul actually moaned at the loss of contact. Instead of stopping, Philippe started to unbutton Raoul's trousers completely. Hands scrambling to stop him, Raoul was impeding his progress.

"Wait."

Philippe silenced him with a kiss that made Raoul dizzy with desire and need. Without any prompting, Raoul lifted his hips to let Philippe remove all articles of clothing from his waist down. Taking only a moment to appreciate the erection Raoul had just for him, Philippe grasped it tightly just to watch Raoul buck into his hand with a moan.

He stroked him from base to tip.

"Please…" Raoul exhaled, his stomach muscles contracting.

"Shh," Philippe coaxed. "It's alright, brother."

And Raoul moaned again, head thrown back against the headboard, eyes closed. He writhed beneath Philippe's touch and he took it all in, mesmerized. When Philippe's grip loosened, Raoul's eyes shot open and looked at him in desperation.

"You do this thinking of me, right?" Philippe asked.

Raoul looked at him in absolute terror, trying to hold himself back even when his hips jerked shallowly into Philippe's grasp.

"What did you imagine? My hand in place of yours. My mouth there instead."

"S-stop." Raoul's voice shuddered along with his body when Philippe's hand tightened. His hands feebly tried to push Philippe away, but instead he just managed to hold onto his shoulders.

"Would you prefer I call you Raoul? Msr. Le Vicomte?" Philippe asked. He wasn't sure why he was doing so either. Some desperate curiosity to know exactly what Raoul imagined the night before pushing him forward. Just something else of Raoul's to possess, his thoughts and sexual fantasies.

Raoul shook his head vigorously, hands clenching Philippe's shoulders, clearly ashamed of himself.

"Then, what?"

"Brother," Raoul nearly cried in frustration when Philippe stopped stroking him.

At first Philippe thought Raoul was just calling to him in mercy, to stop or start once more. Instead, Raoul averted his eyes, his muscles trembling at the effort of uncertainty, whether to press against his touch or pull away from it. Philippe's eyes narrowed in consideration before trying it out.

"Little brother."

Raoul's eyes shuttered close as he released a pitiful moan.

Though he didn't think it was possible, Philippe felt himself get harder. His erection pressed painfully against his trousers. He continued and Raoul let out a relieved moan.

Philippe was about ready to burst. Seeing Raoul with so much abandon, wantonly raising his hips off the bed, biting his bottom lip. It was more than he'd ever expected, and then there were the sounds. The sharp exhales and moans, the gasps when he twisted his wrist just so or the low whining when he focused his attention on the tip. Philippe kissed Raoul almost violently, wanting to swallow those sounds.

Raoul released his hold of Philippe's shoulders just long enough to wrap his arms around his neck, holding on tightly.

"Close," he breathed out, and Philippe knew he was.

He wanted to memorize everything about this moment, Raoul's need for him, his desire, his open mouth as he tried to take the next breath in, the sounds, the way Raoul felt in his hand, his brother's smell, and the taste of his skin, his mouth. He wanted to memorize them, emblazon them on his skin, so that each moment of the day he would know that no one else could have his brother like this, that no one else could make Raoul _want _this badly.

Showering Raoul's neck with wet kisses, Philippe whispered brusquely in his ear, "Brother."

Raoul tensed, mouth opening in a soundless yell as he came. His body shuddered against Philippe's and Philippe could almost feel his orgasm. When Raoul stilled, his arms loose around Philippe's neck, Philippe moved to lay him against the bed. Raoul went bonelessly, still breathing deeply.

Philippe kissed him once on the lips and moved away to deal with his own erection. However, Raoul grabbed his arm and pulled him roughly back towards him. Falling half on top of Raoul, Philippe gave him a confused look.

Licking his lips, Raoul pulled him forward for another kiss, their tongues stroking and exploring. When they pulled away, Raoul hesitantly said, "Let me." His hand slipped into Philippe's trousers and he couldn't seem to muster up the mental capacity to tell Raoul no or to stop him so that he could remove them. Instead, he could only see Raoul's intense focus and feel his hand grab him a little tightly and yet just perfectly.

And somewhere in his mind, he knew that he should feel something other than the pressure building up and the tiny shocks that were lightning up his spine as he rutted against his brother's hand while his brother coaxed him towards an orgasm he knew he'd never forget in all his life, but he didn't really. He felt his brother's warmth, his eyes as they watched his facial expression, his love. He felt his brother give him everything of himself as he kissed him just as desperately as before, and that's what sent him over the edge.

Arms unable to hold himself up anymore, he slumped against the bed pulling Raoul against him as he let the waves of pleasure wash through him. Philippe knew he should get up and clean up the mess they'd made. The stickiness in his trousers were already beginning to make him slightly uncomfortable, but he just couldn't bring himself to move. Then, when Raoul wrapped his arms around him, he knew he wasn't going to move.

Taking a deep breath feeling suddenly tired, he muttered, "Don't leave."

"I won't," Raoul responded just as breathlessly. He smiled, sated and finally at ease. "Don't leave me either," he whispered, moving as close as physically possible to his brother.

"Never," Philippe promised.

He'd long since put a name to his desire and it was love.

o.o.o.o

End of fic

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!  
Story Note: Corny ending! And not how I'd initially expected, but it had to end somehow.  
Okay, no full blown prons here, and while I _was_ going to add it, I have a master plan. Trust me. This took too much effort anyway.


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